"Hi Carl," Mal said, letting the mule sniff his hand to its leisure for a few brief moments. The mage considered his options, shoving away thoughts of what led him here. His companions, if you could call them that, had already begun to rummage and extrapolate whatever they wished, be it items or ideas. Briefly, he stroked his chin. He decided to give a small poke around the crates, taking a bit of rope, a tinderbox, a wand, and a cot and rations if he could find them. If not, however, his destination was the same. 

"I wish you luck on your adventures gentleman," he told them, and headed southwards towards the Harrowlands for rare opportunities. He was torn for a moment, almost wishing to visit civilization. But he would go there just after discovering a few artifacts or caches of gold, or whatever else lay within the shadowed depths of the accursed land. [@Mae]